A Watery Grave
by JustBeMe13
Summary: Warning, thoughts about death! Don't like, don't read! Sanji is locked in a room filling with water, who will save him? Angst, Drama, Horror! Captain to the rescue!


**A Watery Grave**

An agonized cry pierced the air of the silent room. His hands banged on the closed off door, hoping, praying someone would let him out. He didn't want to die, not like this. Drowning in a room on the top floor of this horrifying building. The water was already halfway up his calves and his steel-toed shoes were soaked thoroughly. He screamed again, smashing his powerful leg into the door, trying to break it down. It was no use, the door wouldn't **budge**. The water kept coming and his pants were beginning to soak it up.

He let the tears fall, thinking he'd never see them again. How could he have been so stupid. Trusting them? Loving them? No, he **hadn't**. He hadn't loved them, he'd only pretended. He had never loved his father, or his brothers. Only his sister and his deceased mother had ever loved him, and he had loved them in return.

He sobbed, loud and messy. He hadn't done that in a while. His throat **hurt** ... from the screaming? He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, snot and tears decorating the black fabric. He sank to his knees, the water coming up to his waist now. He didn't want to die, he didn't. But what choice did he have? Falling of the building? Smashing the glass was too hard, it was **too thick** anyway.

Another scream ripped from his throat as he tore at his own, blond hair. His blue eyes squeezed shut and remaining tears joined the rising waters. He wanted to see them again, talk with them and laugh with them. Cry with them and mourn over things. But now, he was certain he could never do that again.

And the **goddamn** door was still closed. And the cursed water was still rising. And his eyes kept filling with tears. And his chest hurt with the building sob he was about to release.

It came out as another agonized scream. Or was it a cry for help?

He didn't know, he had no perception of time anymore. Where was he again? Right, the room filling with water. His thought were cut of as a shiver wracked his body and he realized he was going to drown if he didn't stand up. He stood, his shirt clinging to his wet chest and stomach. It was cold, terribly so. He wanted to cry, but the tears were gone.

Emotion had left him and he just stood there, his fist planted into the door, in the small dent he had created. Blood coated his precious hands he would have only used for cooking until now. He felt ashamed, **damned**. He had promised, he'd **fucking **promised he wouldn't use them.

But look at him now. Punching the **goddamn fucking** door till his knuckles grew raw and his nails drew blood in the palms of his hand.

He screamed again, anguished with hurt and betrayal, fear and disgust for those he didn't even care about. He felt stupid, like he had been stepped upon. His pride had been demolished, crushed under the boots of the family he never loved.

He was sure, **damn** sure, that the geezer would never forgive him if he died. Not even when the stupid man came to hell himself to kick him up to heaven. He was so sure, so, so sure. It made his throat close up, with guilt and sadness. He didn't want to, not now, not ever. He could picture it, that man's disappointed gaze as he stared at his dead, pale body that was floating through the water.

He howled a cry, tears leaking over his face even though he thought he wouldn't have any. He let his arms fall to his side, the water finally seeping into his sleeves as he cried. His relieve was found a little, something lifting of his chest as he **spilled** it all. His body consulved as he was wracked with more tears and throaty cries. In one last attempt at escape, he punched the door again, a pained yelp making it past his lips as his injured hand came in contact with the cold metal that separated him from air.

He gave up, letting himself float from the door a little. His mind was a haze, but his body remembered how to stay afloat. He accepted it, finally. He had accepted that he would die soon. Drown in the sea water that he had so desperately **cursed**, stuck on that island for those crushing ninety days. He accepted that the sea would finally take its claim.

He still floated thought, his head above the water and still breathing air. He wondered why he was still trying. Why did he still want to life, there was nothing left except **death**. He so desperately wanted to die that moment, until, his eyes snapped open and he realized something very important.

He realized he still had his dream to fulfill, their dreams. He need to be there to see him become what he wanted, for when she achieved her goal and all the others reached theirs. He wanted to find that sea, the one he'd dreamed of since he was a kid. He wanted to, with his heart and soul, his very being. He craved for it, hungered for it. Like he had been starving for more than those ninety days on that **damned **rock in the middle of the ocean.

His instincts kicked in and he pushed upwards. He laid his hand on the ceiling and drew in a large breath to calm his quivering nerves. How was he supposed to get back to them stuck in this **godforsaken** room. How in the-

His mind caught up with him again and he released his breath. He couldn't get out, that was the point. There was no hope, and bit he had, was crushed under another boot. His eyes filled with tears once again and he let them stream over his face, his mind **shattering** with the massive feeling of betrayal. He felt broken, deep from inside. Like his soul had split in two and both halves had died.

The barrier that held in most of his emotion had finally been **broken**. He hadn't even known he had this much tears left. He cried, not noticing how the water rose up even higher and his head bumped the ceiling. He cried, not feeling how to water rose up to his neck, then his chin and finally inched up his head.

Until, he swallowed some of the water and choked heavily. He threw his head upwards, only to great the ceiling with a pained grunt and he spit out the water. He laid his cheek against the ceiling and wondered if this was it, if it was the end. He hoped so, secretly. He hoped with all his might that the suffering would stop.

On the other hand, he hoped that he would be saved. Saved from **death **and fear of the unknown.

Finally, his head was engulfed and he pushed off the ceiling, letting himself drift with his eyes staring at nothing. He felt nothing, weightless. But, his lungs began to burn and his body craved for air. His lifeline was about to snap, he knew that it wouldn't be long till sweet bliss would be upon him. He closed his eyes and released the air he had been saving in one large blow, as if blowing out the smoke from one of his cigarettes.

His lungs took in water and his body consulved on its own. But he didn't feel it, for he was already in that state of bliss. A white haze had made its way into his vision and he stared at the flowery field that stretched before him.

He watched as the beautiful woman, who looked suspiciously like his **mother**, ran through the field with her arms spread wide. A smile decorated her delicate face and he grinned at the sight. She was lovely, stunning actually. He started towards her, but the moment he did, she turned and sent him a glare.

With a confused face, he stepped back and she ran once more. He frowned, did he do something wrong? He looked around, just now noticing that he was standing in that white haze. She was like a picture, spread out before his eyes to see. He took a step again, but again, she glared at him, as if saying he mustn't go to her.

Then, she sent him a smile and pointed at him. He smiled nervously as she turned and bounced down the hill, out of sight. A warm feeling spread around his chest and he laid his hand upon. It was his beating heart.

His **beating **heart.

Why did that not sound right. He was **dead**, right? But no, if his heart was beating, that meant he was still **alive**. He was sure he would have drowned by now. Why not? Suddenly, he coughed up a **fuck ton** of water and his chest hurt, like it was on fire. He screamed, choking out more water and coughing. The white haze left and made his eyes snap open.

Coughing out the remaining water, he inhaled sharply. His mind was hazy, but he noticed he was lying on the floor. The water was gone. Wait, what? **Gone**? Where had it gone? He sat up in a millisecond, whipping his head around to see that the glass had been shattered and a steady flow of water was still going out the broken window. He stared, stared, and stared some more.

**What?**

A shadow loomed over him and his head whipped to the side. A few blurs of color made it to his eyes and he had to shield them from that blinding **smile**. His eyes widened slowly as his eyes focused and that goofy smile came into full view. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was too stunned to say anything. He couldn't believe it, just **couldn't**.

He was so confused, what the **hell **was going on? He looked up at his face, at that smile, those eyes and ... and the hat. That **damned** straw hat that he kept with him at all times. The thing that caused them trouble and hardship and ... family. The hat made them come together.

Before he realized it, he was already crying again, and the now once more **blurred** figure moved towards him. He was hugged, a comforting warm hug that chased all his fears away. He was no longer **afraid**. No, he was saved, he had hope once more. He smiled, finally relieved.

Then, his **savior** spoke up. A hushed tone that melted his heart and mended his broken soul.

'I've come for my **cook**,' he said.

That simple phrase was all it took to hug back. And with a satisfied smirk, tears rolling down his cheeks still, he said;

'I'm **home**, Luffy.'


End file.
